


Kepler's Story

by ArtisticVicu



Series: The Othertale Timeline [4]
Category: Undertale (Video Game)
Genre: Gen, Growing Up, Magical Pregnancy, Parenthood, Skeleton Pregnancy (Undertale), Slice of Life, single parent
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-02-02
Updated: 2021-02-02
Packaged: 2021-02-27 06:14:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 11,514
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22092391
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ArtisticVicu/pseuds/ArtisticVicu
Summary: The solution for the Overworld has been found and it is all anyone is working on anymore. Sans - having been one of the leads on the discovery - is at the forefront of everything, drowning himself in work so that he could keep the grief at bay. It wasn't fair that he was killed and now all Sans can do is keep from remembering him.But when life throws a miracle at him, he isn't sure if he should be grateful or resentful that the miracle survived?Spoiler: he's grateful, but man does he have a few choice words for thehowand thewhy.
Series: The Othertale Timeline [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1590136
Kudos: 6





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Though this can be read as a standalone, this does follow immediately after Othertale. Some things may not make sense if you read this first, not to mention the few spoilers that are contained within.

The lab was quiet when he entered it. Everyone else was either celebrating or getting much needed sleep and he envied any of the latter. He turned on the terminal he had been at as a half thought crossed his mind. Would there be any others suffering from the events of the day? Heck, the Incident itself - Incident? Really? That was the best he could come up with? - had been less than 24 hours ago and for a large number of those in the Lab it would have been the first severe attack they would have been subjected to. Things like that just didn’t happen in the Underground. Sure, a bar fight or a brawl broke out occasionally, and there’s always the random bloke that just ups and loses it but nothing like-

The chirrup from the terminal brought his spiraling thoughts to a halt. He stared at the screen completely lost for a brief moment before his mind found itself back on the task at hand. He could spiral his way into a panic attack later. Right now, there was work to do.

It wasn’t till someone placed a plate donning a fat, hot burrito that he became aware of the people in the space around him. He grinned up at the person offering him food and offered some words but whoever it had been and whatever he had said were gone from his memory as soon as he focused back on his terminal. He rubbed at his face feeling raw but the sounds of the lab now had his attention and he couldn’t seem to isolate from it like he had been.

The burrito was delicious but he lacked the appetite for it. It should probably concern him - he was sure his magic was in desperate need of a refuel - but he just couldn’t seem to care enough about it to look into it. So he put it out of his mind and focused on the lab around him in order to eat as much of the burrito as he could without being aware he was doing so.

There wasn’t a single face he recognized, not that it meant much. With the previous night having dragged on till four in the morning, he wasn’t surprised to see people who had not been present or who had gone to bed far sooner. Though he had a sneaking suspicion that a few of the folks were from the previous night even if he couldn’t remember them; the clock did read three in the afternoon.

Time could certainly fly when he was lost in his work.

Papyrus interrupted his work a good four hours later with a worn expression. “Come on,” the lankier skeleton offered. “Let us get some dinner in you and the both of us off to bed.”

A smile pulled itself across his face. “You cooking?” he asked, doing his best to distract himself from the dread that had settled over him.

Papyrus chuckled. “I can if you are willing to help. I am...too strung out to do it on my own tonight.”

Guilt and empathy twisted his soul. Of course he wouldn’t have been the only one to suffer from yesterday’s events. Papyrus had been on the front lines with him, had witness and even recovered-

“Always willing to help, Pap,” he nearly spat even as he tried to keep his faux happy mood. “Just tell me what to do.”

The smile Papyrus returned looked dull and Sans was immensely grateful that the dining space and attached kitchen were bustling. The crowd there greeted the two of them warmly, happily, and while he easily went with the cordial nature of the space, his muted awareness of Papyrus had him unaware of how withdrawn Papyrus became in the midst of it.

Sans lost himself in that haze of friendly people and happy conversations so much that the view of his door shocked him; Papyrus’s words curled around him, soft in the nearly empty hallway. “Sleep well, Sans.”

Panic shattered the good mood he had been in and he clamped down on it, words tumbling from his tongue in something that sounded almost carefree. “You too, Pap. Don’t let the bedbugs bite.”

He gained a huffed laugh for his efforts but nothing more. Papyrus patted his shoulder before walking away.

Sans couldn’t get himself to move from that spot till Papyrus was out of sight. He entered his room and closed the door, gaze roaming over the small space even as the panic started to slip out of his grasp. One night. He could get one night of good sleep. It wouldn’t kill him.

It shouldn’t kill him, he amended.

He shot awake barely an hour later. His magic scraped at his bones, churned in his chest, and it was all he could do to swallow back the wails of despair that wanted out. His hands shook as he pressed them to his face. He sucked in air that he didn’t need with the desperation of someone drowning. The blankets seemed to tighten around him and he shoved them off, stumbling to his feet into the middle of his room. No, there was no way he was sleeping. Not a chance.

He shoved a fresh change of clothes on but couldn’t get the lab coat on; what he was already wearing felt too tight on his bones and magic that even the thought of pulling the coat on made him want to tear at his clothing.

He did a cursory glance of the hallway before he dashed back to the lab. If he was kicked out, he’d go to his personal one, but there was no way he was going to try sleeping again anytime soon.

The dream hadn’t stuck around once he had woken but the residual effects lasted for hours. As long as he didn’t remember whatever horrors his mind had conjured, he would take the side effects.

Papyrus came for him every night for dinner and every night Papyrus bid him goodnight at his door. Sans would step in and piddle around for an hour before slipping back to either the lab or his personal one. How his brother hadn’t caught on after two weeks of him ditching sleep was beyond him.

In hindsight, Papyrus probably knew from the beginning but that would mean Sans would have to face _why_ Papyrus had let him get away with it for two whole weeks.

But as he entered his lab after bidding his brother goodnight for the fifteenth night in a row, he found Papyrus waiting for him with arms crossed and looking as tired as Sans was pretending he wasn’t.

“Oops,” rolled off his tongue. An involuntary grin spread across his face as the word. “Guess you caught me.”

“Sans,” Papyrus started, the word heavy and disappointed and it snapped something in Sans that he hadn’t even been aware had being taut.

“Oh, come on, Pap,” he cut in, the words heavy and unnecessarily sharp. “I’m a grown skeleton. I can handle a few nights of little sleep. It’s not harming any of my work.”

Papyrus clenched his teeth as Sans caught the barely suppressed flicker of orange magic in his brother’s sockets. The other’s entire form had tensed despite the exhaustion that curled the long spine forward and hunched the shoulders. “No, but it is harming you and I am done standing aside and letting you wear yourself down for something that can wait.”

That…stung. That stung in a way that Sans had not been expecting from his brother. It poked a hole in the little bubble he had managed to shove the worst of his emotions into causing it to leak. “Can wait,” he parroted, unintentionally baring his teeth as he did so. “Something that can wait. Papyrus, I don’t know what rock you’ve been living under but this work cannot simply ‘wait’.”

Whatever shift happened in Papyrus’s expression, he didn’t understand it. “There are others that can handle it long enough for you to take a much needed break.”

“Break from what!?” he barked, feeling as if his brother had just shoved him to the edge of a dangerous cliff. “I’ve barely been able to do _anything_ for the last four months and now that I’m finally being of use, I need to take a break? No!”

Papyrus actually rolled his eyes at that and it infuriated him. “Sans, that’s not-”

“That’s not what you meant?” he challenged. What little magic wasn’t holding him together coiled around every bone, around his face, and it left him with the urge to scrape at his bones till it faded. “Then what did you mean, Papyrus. What in the stars above did you mean.”

That was the last thing he could clearly remember of the argument. Whatever his brother had said to counter his challenge, whatever words had followed, he couldn’t remember. All he knew was that whatever had been said had been bad. Really bad. The wounded, betrayed expression on Papyrus’s face before the other skeleton had turned and stormed off had left him unable to focus on his work. Whatever had been said had those that had been witness to the fight watching him with apprehension and unease.

It was also the last point in time that he had been able to keep track of time.

The rough patch left by the argument hadn’t lasted and Sans was quickly swallowed by the mountain of work that had to be done. Every hour of every day there was something to work on, something to keep him busy. When they finished crunching numbers to see if they had enough of the neutralizing agent - if the volume of the planet’s atmosphere was still close to what they were using in their calculations, they barely had enough - focus shifting into plans on how to distribute the neutralizing agent. Countless brainstorming sessions led into working out three different plans, expanding upon them and seeing which one would have the highest rate of success with the fewest amount of people being exposed to the atmosphere of the Overworld.

If he slept during any of it, it was due to exhaustion. Sometimes he would sleep deep enough that he got a good four or five hours of actual sleep before the nightmares woke him. Most of the time, though, he was barely lucky enough to get a full hour before he was up against his own volition. Luckily eating hadn’t been his sole responsibility like sleeping was but that didn’t mean he was eating enough, let alone well enough to keep his magic levels above the bare minimum.

It didn’t take a genius to make the conclusion that his lack of self care was probably why he found himself groggily waking up on the lab floor surrounded by far too many people. An odd sort of numb resolve stuck around as the world around him drew his attention.

“Easy Sans,” Undyne’s voice urged. It was unusually gentle and low, wrapping around him as if it could block out the rest of the lab. Or maybe he was just too tired to be able to focus on more than one thing. “We’ve got a medic on the way to check you over before you start moving around.” He heard her weight shift above his head. “Do you know where you are? What happened?”

“I passed out in the lab,” fell from his mouth in a fat tongue slur of words.

Someone jumped in at the tail end of his statement. “More like dropped dead.” He frowned. That was one of the new - to him - humans on the project. What was their name again? “You collapsed without any warning. Right in the middle of tasks.” Conner? Cooper? “Nothing like your normal napping.”

Tanner. That’s what it was. Smart, if not a touch more insecure than normal newbies. Most were to some extent in the beginning and Tanner was green enough to still have the insecurity that came from a simple lack of knowledge. Hopefully both insecurities the human housed would fade the longer Tanner stuck to it.

Undyne’s voice brought him back to center. A small part of his mind prodded at the idea that he should be concerned by that. “Looks like the medic’s here.”

There was chatter over him but he couldn’t care less. Despite the open sockets, he had no magic to pool into eyelights to see clearly what was going on. For a brief moment, it brought his thoughts to Papyrus wearing glasses while reading and he wondered if his brother needed them since the forced trait shift. Surely he had plenty of magic to spare now to keep his eyesight exceptional without thinking about it.

A cool hand curled around the base of his skull and top of his spine. “Sans? Are you still with us?”

“Yeah, I’m still here,” he offered. The words still came out fat tongue slurred but it seemed understandable enough.

“Good. I’m Dr. Hendrix. I’m going to check you for injuries and see if we have to brace anything before moving you. While I work, I want you to hold a conversation with Undyne.”

Annoyance rolled under the numbness that had yet to leave him. “Do I have to?”

There was a heavy pause before Dr. Hendrix stated plainly, “Yes.”

“Fantastic,” had more bite to it than he had intended and he was sure he felt the roll of Undyne’s magic as she rightfully took offence to that.

“Well, lucky for you I actually have things we need to discuss,” Undyne all but growled at him.

“Don’t rile him up too much, Captain,” the doctor warned, though it came across more like a drawl than an actual warning.

“Not planning on it.” She shifted her weight and he got the distinct impression she was glaring at him. “Though, if talking about his _brother_ riles him up, that’s on him.”

“The heck we need to talk about Papyrus for?” He mentally winced when the words slurred together horribly.

“You haven’t talked to him in four months.”

He wanted to deny it had been that long, that they had only just had their argument last week. “So?”

“Sans,” she berated. But instead of continuing with whatever she had planned on saying, she sighed instead. “Look. I gave Papyrus that first two weeks off because I had to. It is literally expected that family is allowed time to grieve the loss of a loved one. I wanted to give him more than that but he fought me even on the mandatory two week minimum. But then I hear you don’t even show up to the fucking funeral only to have a verbal brawl with him over it after _promising_ you would be there…” He heard her suck air through clenched teeth, holding it before she released it in a sharp breath. “He refused work at the Lab after that.” His soul dropped at that as he finally forced his magic to make eyelights. A crisp view of the lab from the floor assaulted his mind. He ignored it for the sake of looking up at her as best he could lying on his side. She met his gaze with a glare that seemed wounded somehow. “I’ve been forced to put him on probational patrols in the same neck of the woods your house is in. He’s been there for a little over two months now and you haven’t even fucking noticed.”

Dr. Hendrix’s voice was jarring. “Alright. Nothing broken, nothing we have to brace. See if you can’t sit up on your own, Sans. Carefully.”

The noises of the lab slammed into him and he flinched from them. It seemed as if his fall had barely created a pause in the chaos.

He sat up with surprising ease, though that was more relative than accurate. His magic was taut around his bones and soreness and fatigue followed the actions. The doctor was watching him like a hawk as he got himself standing before anyone could say otherwise. 

Dr. Hendrix’s expression tightened but they didn’t tell him off for it. “I’m making you ride on the stretcher.”

“I can-” he started but the doctor held up a hand.

“Don’t care. You’re riding on the stretcher.”

He swallowed the desire to push the subject. He was fine, he was standing. He could walk to the medical ward.

But then he walked the short distance to the stretcher and nearly collapsed a second time. Undyne’s hands suddenly appearing under his arms was the only reason he didn’t hit the floor. Dr. Hendrix helped Undyne get his situated on the stretcher. His face burned in shame but he conceded. He turned his focus onto counting the lights they passed under, ignoring those that walked with him and those that they passed in the halls.

“Hey,” curled gently around his thoughts and he found himself blinking awake to find Undyne was looking at him with her hand on his forehead. They were still walking. “Gotta stay awake, Sans.”

“M’tired,” was the only thing he managed.

The left corner of her lips upturned in a smile. “I’m sure but right now the doc needs to finish up checking you over before allowing you to sleep. Concussion is still a real possibility.”

He didn’t reply and Undyne’s little half smile fell.

“So why haven’t you been sleeping?”

He made a face at her question, hating that she apparently knew, hating that she was still touching his forehead, hating that he was answering anyways. “Don’t care for the nightmares.”

“Papyrus said he tried to get you to go see a grievance counselor.”

That...he didn’t remember that. “I’ve been busy.”

“How? You were supposed to be barred from working the first two weeks.”

He shrugged. He couldn’t remember if anyone had or not. The prospect of a solution coming in a human lifetime had been far more potent than some grief policy.

“You do realize I will be speaking with Asgore and Toriel about this.”

He tensed at that. He knew it had only been sheer luck that the two boss monsters had been busy with other things that they hadn’t come and forced him to face that two weeks without distractions. “Leave them be, Undyne,” he tried despite knowing it was futile to try. “They’ve got their hands full with those three. No need to drag their attention away quite yet.”

To his surprise, Undyne’s expression tightened. Apparently the Dreemurrs taking in Chara along with Frisk and Flowey hadn’t sat right with the Guard Captain. He hadn’t really paid much attention to what had actually happened. All he knew was that Chara had been found within that first week after the Incident and that the Dreemurrs had taken them in right along with Frisk and Flowey. He knew that none of it had been an easy process but he didn’t know to what extent nor how many of those challenges still existed. Undyne looked down at him with an expression he couldn’t understand but the words to ask her about it stuck in his throat. “You know I can’t, Sans. This is serious and they have to be made aware of it.”

The bed turned and Undyne’s touch left his forehead. A conversation started somewhere beyond his head but the small room he was pushed into muddled the words.

According to the clock on the opposite wall, it was an hour later when Dr. Hendrix sat down at his bedside with his file in hand. Unease weighed on his soul as the doctor rubbed at their eyes with a heavy sigh before looking up at him. “I have contacted your brother and am simply waiting on his arrival before going over the following information.” Their hard gaze scrutinized his face as they threatened, “If I find out this behaviour was done with prior knowledge of your current condition, I will be having words with several people and you will not like any of it.”

His sockets widened at that even as he frowned, confused. “What-” barely made it out of his mouth before he was cut off by the door opening a second time.

Papyrus slipped in looking as tense as the last time Sans had seen him. Some of that tension eased when their gazes met. Papyrus crossed to his other side, looking to Dr. Hendrix. “I was told this was something dire.”

Sans glanced at Papyrus. Why had his brother been told it was dire? All he had done was pass out and he was sure that was from a lack of sleep and eating properly.

Oh.

He could see how that would be considered dire.

“In more ways than one.” Silence fell heavily over the room as the doctor looked between the two of them. Sans wanted to say something to get the doctor talking, to find out whatever this horrible news was and face the consequences of his actions so that he could go back to drowning himself in his work but he couldn’t get the words out. Papyrus’s hand found his shoulder and gave it a squeeze as Dr. Hendrix looked briefly at the file before meeting Sans’s gaze. “From what I’ve gathered, you have not been eating properly nor sleeping regularly. Is this correct?”

He offered a confused, drawn out, “Yes.” Hadn’t he already admitted that? Hadn’t others?

“And are you aware of how little magic that has caused you to have?”

He gave a half shrug. “I’ve kind of figured.”

“Right.” Every bit of him hated what that one word held within it. “And are you aware that you are carrying?”

Wait. “What?”

“What do you mean ‘carrying’?” Papyrus asked before he could. He could hear the same confusion he was feeling in his brother’s words.

That tight, berating expression on Dr. Hendrix’s face eased with surprise, though the disbelief stuck around when only one of the doctor’s eyebrows rose. “As it sounds. Sans, for all intent and purposes, is pregnant.” 

_Pregnant_.

He watched as the doctor’s gaze moved to Papyrus, watched as the doctor’s lips moved, but he couldn’t hear what was being said. There was an odd roaring in his skull but he couldn’t hear anything else. There was no way he was carrying. He couldn't be carrying. The last person he had done that intimate dance with was not only dead, they hadn’t even been aiming for that. Skeleton monsters had the hardest time carrying, let alone conceiving. A new soul would have been absorbed before it could even properly form even if they had managed to accidentally sire one. He hadn’t been maintaining it, hadn’t been giving it the much needed magic all new souls required from the carrier. Stars, he wasn’t even built for that! He would most likely dust before he even got to...got to see...

Familiar boney hands were cupping his face as the sound of his brother’s voice cut through the roaring in his skull. He found himself desperately clinging to his brother’s wrists not remembering grabbing at them. His brother’s voice was nothing but a different kind of noise but it was enough to cause the dam to break. 

He wept. Grief and fear churned through him and it was all he could do to not shatter in Papyrus’s hold. Papyrus pulled him up against the other’s chest and wrapped those long, strong arms tightly around him. He hollered into his brother’s chest not wanting this, not wanting any of it.

He must have cried himself to sleep because when he opened his eyes, the room was much darker and his position on the bed had changed. Papyrus was still beneath him, an arm tightly wrapped around him. There was flickering light on the walls as if there was a tv on but he couldn’t hear it. He felt lethargic; oddly enough, though, his bones felt lighter and his magic looser. He pulled his arm out from under himself and gently pushed at Papyrus’s chest to sit up. The lankier skeleton met his gaze, arm remaining snug around him.

All the words were thrown between them unspoken, thickening the air as Sans floundered for something to say. Papyrus’s jaw worked as if the other was chewing over his own words.

“Dr. Hendrix is keeping you overnight for observation,” Papyrus offered finally, his voice low and barely above a whisper. “Undyne stopped by. She wanted me to inform you that you have been put on probation for the next six months by the Dreemurrs as reprimand for not taking the required two weeks off in addition to you refusing to work in a healthy manner during the time since. They are allowing you to do moderated work from home but you are not allowed back in the Lab for the next six months. Your probation starts when you are released from the medical ward and after the allotted six hours to gather personal belongings and the necessary materials for the moderated work.”

“And the…” he found himself trying to ask but the words died in his throat. He couldn’t ask, couldn’t make it real. Not yet. Not till he saw it for himself.

Papyrus dropped his gaze briefly and for a moment his mind was filled with the worst meanings. Papyrus met his gaze again. “The new soul is still nested with yours.” He let out a shuddering breath, the relief that rushed through him like adrenaline quickly followed by guilt and shame. “Dr. Hendrix has not shared the information with anyone and has stated the two nurses that had assisted will not gossip. Patient privacy notwithstanding.”

“Is Dr. Hendrix...are they able to..."

Papyrus shook his head. “Dr. Hendrix only came across the new soul while they were checking for signs of Falling and other soul afflicting ailments. They have suggested a list of doctors but I think your reaction threw them off. The list is rather short.”

“What do you mean?”

A slight frown pulled itself across Papyrus’s expression as the other seemed to mull it over. “You started panicking,” he stated plainly. “It took a while before either of us noticed but it may have been more due to the panic having to get through the shock of finding out first.” Papyrus shook his head but Sans couldn’t tell if it was dismissive or meant for something else. “You reeled back and Dr. Hendrix took one look at you before jumping to their feet, trying to calm you down. I hadn’t even realized how panicked you were until I was on the bed getting you to face me.” His expression tightened. “It’s Alex’s, isn’t it.”

His entire body flinched from that statement and the grief that had quieted shot to the surface again. He found himself engulfed in another tight hug and he clung to his brother as he let the grief rush over him. He lacked the strength to fight against it anymore.

He calmed down feeling worn but awake. Papyrus had a hand on his skull, thumb absentmindedly rubbing against the bone. He adjusted how he was resting against his brother, seeking a position that was more comfortable. Once he found it, he leaned his head back to look at his brother’s face. “I feel like I should ask why you think it’s Alex’s.”

Papyrus laughed at that, though the sound of it was breathy. He was grateful when Papyrus kept his gaze trained on the tv. “I would have been surprised if it had been anyone else’s.” Papyrus’s arms tightened around him. “And concerned. Even before all of this you were never overly promiscuous.”

Sans dropped his chin. He didn’t want to say it, didn’t want to make it real, but he was going to have to face it head on regardless of how ready he was for it. “Yeah,” he offered in the silence between them. “It’s,” the words caught in his throat briefly, “it’s Alex’s.”

Papyrus curled around him, those arms pinning him to the larger chest. “Oh, Sans.” He clung right back. After a long, comforting pause, Papyrus assured him, “You won’t be alone in this. I will help in any way I can.”

He shook his head. “You shouldn’t have to deal with my mistake.”

Papyrus moved back, forcing him to look up and meet his brother’s gaze. “This is not a mistake, Sans. Things like these are not mistakes.” That determined, compassionate expression fell. “But it will be hard on you in so many ways and I would understand if you chose to say no to this.”

A pain of something sharp shot through his soul as the implication behind Papyrus’s words registered. He shook his head, offering adamantly, “If I can bring this new soul into the world, I want to, Pap.” He realized his hands were shaking. “If I can carry it to term, I want to if for nothing else than selfish reasons.” He tore his gaze away from his hands, seeking out Papyrus’s gaze again. There was a lump in his nonexistent throat trying to choke him. He managed to speak around it. “I want to hang onto the last piece of Alex I have with all my soul.”

Tears streaked down Papyrus’s long face but the other didn’t seem to notice. Instead, Papyrus pulled Sans’s head to his shoulder. “Then rely on me. You’re going to need magic until either your magic levels back out or the soul is born and I am more than happy to help in any other way you need. You just have to ask.”

Sans laughed. It was light and barely had any sound to it, but it carried his relief and grief and whatever else he was feeling. “That’s not an easy thing to do.”

“I know.” Those long arms tightened around him. “At least try? If not for me then the soul you carry?”

Sans buried his face more into Papyrus’s shoulder. “Yeah. I’ll try.”

That night wasn’t the best of sleep but it was more than he had had in the previous four months. Even Dr. Hendrix had commented on it as they came in to discharge him before diving into the discharge orders.

“This,” Dr. Hendrix gestured with one of the pill bottles; it sounded nearly empty, “will give you a night of deep sleep. I am only giving you one week’s worth and no, I am not giving you more. The only reason why I’m even giving this to you is because your body needs the rest but going too long without dreaming will be harmful to your psyche.” They passed the bottle to Papyrus as if Sans wasn’t to be trusted. Sans mentally shoved the assumption aside. Dr. Hendrix was giving everything to Papyrus because Papyrus was the one actively reaching out for the materials he was being sent home with. The decent sleep seemed to only make his bones feel heavier so he let Papyrus take the burden of remembering all this because he sure wasn’t going to at this point. The doctor held up the second bottle. It sounded full. “This is to assist with sleep when that is empty. It’s natural and far less addictive. I am giving you six weeks worth. I will only refill it once and only at the request of a therapist you have been seeing at least once a week. If they say you are making good progress but need the assistance for another six weeks, I’ll allow a refill.”

He nodded under the doctor’s sharp look. They had discussed the need for him to have a therapist and to actually go through with the grief counseling before the meds were even brought out. Papyrus had made him a therapy appointment for later that day before the doctor had even shown up. Papyrus had been ready to fight him on it but Sans knew he needed help - professional help. Sans wasn’t sure what he thought about seeing the same therapist as his brother but Papyrus had stayed with this particular therapist even after the grievance counseling so they had to be a good soul for Papyrus to stick with for so long.

The final bottle was presented but it made no sound. “These are nutrition supplements. This will help your physical form regain some much needed strength. Unfortunately we only give enough for four weeks per prescription so you will have to either pick up the refill every month or arrange for it to be shipped to you. There are five refills lined up but the last two may not be required. You don’t have to come back to me but I want you visiting your physician in four months for a wellness check. It will be up to that check whether you need the last two refills or not.”

“Thank you Dr. Hendrix,” he offered warmly.

The doctor nodded. “I did not reach out to your previous providers about any of this since I was not sure who you were seeing now so when you do see your doctor - and the one specifically for the new soul - inform their office to reach out to me. I’ll pass on your files.”

“You are not one of the regular doctors in the Lab, correct?” Papyrus put in as the doctor stood.

“Correct,” the doctor parroted. “I took on a few shifts here for a colleague but I can leave my information if you think coming to see me in four months will work better than your normal physician.”

“Our last one retired a couple of months ago,” Papyrus informed them. 

The doctor nodded. “I’ll be back with my information, then. Give me five minutes.”


	2. Chapter 2

Papyrus gently shook his shoulder. “We’re here.”

He opened his sockets as the vehicle came to a stop outside a building that wasn’t their home. “What we doing at Grillby’s?”

Papyrus started grabbing their things. “We have a few hours before your appointment so it seemed like a good enough time to get you settled in.”

“Settled in? Aren’t we going home?”

Papyrus got out without answering him. Sans moved to follow his brother but the door beside him opened. Surprised, he looked out the open door to meet Grillby’s gaze.

“Hello Sans,” the fire elemental greeted warmly.

He wondered if the slight tightness at the edge was his imagination. “Hey, Grillby.” He took the offered help out and clambered to his feet. The air was crisp but it lacked the normal bite. A lot of folks were wandering around in sweaters, if that. For Snowdin, it was a balmy day and people were taking advantage of the warmer temperatures. “We bumming with you for a bit, then?”

Exhaustion gnawed at him but he was glad when his legs took his weight. It seemed the magic Papyrus had given him was helping.

“Something like that.” Grillby’s hand slipped from his in order to take one of the bags from Papyrus. “Come on. I’ll finish prepping lunch while Papyrus fills you in properly.”

Sans shot his brother a quizzical look and caught the tail end of his brother ducking his head.

It had been a long time since he had been in Grillby’s and he was disappointed that was the only thing he remembered of the place. He wasn’t surprised the fire elemental lived above the restaurant but that part of him that didn’t remember the other properly was.

They took the outside stairs - there had to be stairs inside; it wouldn’t make sense otherwise - through an unlocked door. The entryway was marked only by the tile they stepped on. Furniture marked the different spaces that made up the large living space. To the right of the door was a table surrounded by four chairs while to the left was the kitchen that opened out into the living room. The island marked the edge of the kitchen towards the living room, two bar stools tucked in under the island’s bar top. The living room had a couch and loveseat facing a simple entertainment center. The remaining space was a small lounge with two large, plush looking chairs situated before a fireplace bookended by built in shelves. There were equal amounts of books and trinkets on the shelves.

Grillby put the bag he had been carrying down outside the entryway tile. “Let me know if you two need anything.” The elemental slipped out of his shoes as he moved to the kitchen, the pair of shoes neatly placed together at the edge of the kitchen as if it was second nature. “Lunch will be done in a few minutes.”

Papyrus followed Grillby’s lead and stepped onto the carpet towards the living room. Again, shoes were neatly placed together without a foot touching the entryway tile. Sans’s shoes were not neat when he stepped sock footed onto the carpet. Not wanting to disrupt the cleanliness of the entryway, he turned around and straightened his shoes before grabbing what of theirs Papyrus had left behind. He followed after Papyrus towards a small alcove in the wall on the other side of the kitchen.

He noted two doors, one of which Papyrus entered. He glanced at the door on the left curiously before following his brother into a bedroom.

His feet stopped just past the threshold. The room was lived in - very lived in. Papyrus wasn’t a messy person; six months of relearning who his brother was had proven that to him and those six months had also shown him what signs to look for, whether he had been aware of it or not. This wasn’t looking like some temporary living arrangement. Something close to panic churned in his chest as he stared at his brother’s back. 

Papyrus placed the bags down on the second, untouched bed. “I owe you an apology for the lack of communication and an explanation.” Papyrus didn’t look at him. “I haven’t been able to step foot into the house after...” 

A heavy pause filled the air as Papyrus’s ribs expanded. After what? What was Papyrus...

Oh.

“It was too quiet when I tried staying there during my grievance period.”

Right.

“I don’t…” 

He watched a shudder ripple down his brother’s back. He felt like such an ass.

“I have no memory of calling Grillby, of asking for his help. I somehow managed to get blackout drunk my first night alone and I still cannot recall anything from those first twenty-four hours away from the Lab.” Finally, Papyrus turned to look at him. The other’s neutral expression was well controlled. “I woke up in this room a mess but it was better than being in that silent house. I was probably being presumptuous thinking it would have been harder for you after everything today but I...” His brother’s gaze fell away and the shame cracked that carefully constructed neutral expression. “I can’t make it through you breaking down again without some sort of support.”

Sans closed the distance between them with slow steps. Papyrus didn’t look to him until he reached out and gently held onto the other’s arms. “I am not mad, nor offended.” A teasing smile pulled at his face, but the humor was more directed at himself than anything else. “I’m in no state to be taking care of myself, let alone making healthy decisions. You know that. I appreciate the forethought and you know I am all for you having extra help handling me.” The smile grew into a grin. “I’m a handful and a half and with a new soul on the way, I’m just going to be even more bothersome. You’ll be screaming for a day off soon enough.”

The huffed laugh eased some of the guilt in his chest. He hadn’t thought about how much was being asked of Papyrus when the other agreed to stay with him through this. The only hurdle for him being completely comfortable with the situation, though, was still in the kitchen. His grip tightened. “Have you told him already?”

Papyrus shook his head. “The only thing I shared was your collapse at work. We had been making lunch when I got the call. He did call to check in while you slept at some point last night but I only told him that you had pushed yourself too hard with work and an underlying condition caused the fainting spell. I was leaving it to you to tell him, if you chose to. I’m certain Grillby will take whatever information you give him without much question.”

His head bobbed in an unconscious nod. “So I have to still tell him.”

“Only if you want to,” Papyrus reminded him.

“Would probably be best, since we’re bumming at his place for the foreseeable future.” He took a few steps back, letting his hands fall from Papyrus’s arms as a smile curled across his face. He would have to bring up the length of their stay to both monsters later. “Come on. I’ve got nothing distracting me from the gnawing hunger and I was promised food.”

The kitchen was empty but the dining table held plates he was certain hadn’t been there when they had arrived. Movement at the opposite wall drew his attention to another alcove similar to the one that housed the door to Papyrus’s - and now apparently his - room. Grillby was stepping out of the alcove tugging at a vest that swift fingers quickly buttoned as their gazes met. “I apologize to the both of you. One of my staff just called out sick so I’m going down to assist until the position can get covered by another. I shouldn’t be more than a few hours but I will keep you two updated either way.”

“Holland again?” Papyrus asked, stepping around Sans to Grillby.

He watched, amused, as the lankier skeleton started doing the fire elemental’s tie as the elemental started rolling up his sleeves. “Yes. And I am growing concerned that there is more to it than simply being sick.” Grillby sighed, hand going still on a half done sleeve, gaze falling level with Papyrus’s chest.

Grillby was a foot shorter than Papyrus, which put the elemental shorter than Alex. An unwanted shudder skittered down his back. He shoved the observation away; the grief that had tailed it stayed.

Grillby went back to rolling up his sleeve, turning his gaze to the work he was doing. “It is nothing I should be bothering you with.”

Papyrus shifted forward and pressed a hand to Grillby’s neck, gaining the elemental’s gaze.

_“Do you think they might date or am I seeing things?”_

“I am quite content taking whatever burden you give me. You have helped us more than you can imagine and if this is the least I can do to return the favor, I will gladly do it.”

_“Who?”_

Grillby covered Papyrus’s hand and despite not having a mouth to smile with, Sans knew the elemental was smiling endearingly up at his brother. “Then do not overburden yourself or I will see it as a slight to all I have done.”

Papyrus laughed at that.

_“Papyrus and Grillby.”_

Sans shrank back from the encounter as if it would stop Alex’s words in his head. He tried focusing on the table, tried cataloging the food in a desperate attempt to drown out the roll of laughter that filled his head, to not get drawn into the memory of that particular conversation. He didn’t want to remember how Alex had managed to get him to remember their history together through confusion and guilt, of how he had felt like such an ass when it all sank in. He shouldn’t have done something so stupid as get back into Gaster’s work. He tried to show Alex that he had been serious and that he really wanted this- wanted them!

The sensation of a hot, sweaty, living body under his hands shifted suddenly to something still, something that was innately wrong, and he was half aware he was doing chest compressions, barely aware of anything else outside of the desperate scream in his soul for Alex to breathe, to wake up, to not be d-

His whole body twitched from the hand that touched his shoulder and he came face to face with his brother’s worried expression. His brother’s other hand curled around his cheek, the side of his head, and it was still warm from being against Grillby’s neck. “Sans, it’s ok,” Papyrus was speaking. If there had been words before it, he’d missed them. “You’re ok. Breathe with me. Come on now.”

The first breath caught in his chest and he choked on it - or maybe he choked on the sobs he hadn’t realized were escaping - but the second one filled his ribcage, slowly drawing him out of the memories that were swallowing him.

It took far too long for him to feel like he wasn’t drowning in grief anymore. To his utter amazement, Grillby was still there and was in the process of offering both him and his brother a glass of water. He hated how his hands shook but at least he had the strength to actually hold the glass. The liquid was cool and he guzzled it.

“I feel as if I should be apologizing,” Grillby offered, voice low and careful.

It cut through his sudden thirst and he lowered the glass. “It was nothing you did.” Unconsciously he curled around the glass in his hands. Sans’s thoughts tried returning to the vortex that he had just gotten out of. “Just a wayward thought that got out of hand.”

A warm hand covered his shoulder, drawing his gaze back to the elemental. "Still. If there are things Papyrus and I need to be careful of, let us know."

The smile came easily to his face. "That doesn't sound like the healthiest thing to do," he half joked, "but I'll let you know. I think it solely depends on how the therapist appointment goes."

"And when is it?"

"Four-thirty; in two hours,” Papyrus informed them both. Sans scowled at his glass. Great. He was still losing time and this time to a breakdown.

The conversation continued without him, though he did catch the name Bash once or twice. If he remembered correctly that was the therapist Papyrus was seeing. Hopefully this Bash was as good of a soul as he was anticipating and would actually be able to make a difference. He didn't want to live his life from breakdown to breakdown, not with a new soul on the way.

His body twitched from the warm hand that touched his shoulder. He looked up at Grillby.

"I will see you after your appointment. If you need anything, let me know."

He offered as genuine of a smile as he could muster. "I will, Grillby. Now get going. We've kept you long enough."

The fire at the top of Grillby's head crackled; the other was not comfortable leaving. Despite the internal conflict, Grillby stepped away offering last words of farewell to the both of them. Sans watched him cross to the alcove on the other side of the kitchen and disappear through the left door.

Papyrus got to his feet. “Come on. I will reheat lunch.”

Sans watched Papyrus gather what needed to be reheated, exhaustion keeping him on the floor for a moment longer. Unease was slowly creeping into his soul and he hated it. Getting to his feet, he walked over to his brother and offered his aid.

Four hours later Sans was stepping back into Grillby’s home emotionally drained. He still felt raw even after the half hour walk from the therapist’s office and Papyrus looked no better. He flopped onto the couch with a groan, fighting the urge to start crying again.

Bastian “Bash” Core was a kind soul and very good at what he did. Sans had found himself verbally and mentally outpaced the entire one-on-one conversation and had actually enjoyed it until the whole thing went south.

The session was scheduled for an hour and a half, a bit of information he had missed somewhere in the midst of the day, but it had been needed. The first half hour had been routine of him getting to know a bit about Bastian and Bastian going through the standard array of inquiries and information gathering. The hour that followed was supposed to be the actual session and, despite Sans’s initial resistance, it had progressed well. But somewhere at the top of the last half hour of the session he had been caught off guard by a sudden burst of grief and anguish that he couldn’t pull himself out of. When he was finally talked out of it by the end of the session, Papyrus had joined them. In the few minutes it took for them to leave the therapist’s office, he overheard Bastian thanking Papyrus for the assistance. Whatever had come up had not been anything Bastian had been prepared for and Sans could hear the worry in the therapist’s voice.

_“I don’t want to push you but I strongly suggest at least three times a week for the next two weeks,”_ echoed in his head. There has been a confused frown on the therapist’s face when Bastian had urged for the multiple sessions. Even face down in the couch he could clearly see the hesitation on the therapist’s face, as if what was said next might scare Sans off completely. _“It’s a lot for a new client but I think it’ll be easier for you to just come in for an hour three days a week to just talk for a bit rather than the heavy grief therapy until you feel more comfortable with facing this with me.”_

Sans had his doubts over the whole thing but had agreed and scheduled the six sessions before leaving. The desire to fight ever seeing Bastian again was part of his emotional exhaustion but he knew this was the right thing to do. Three days a week for the next two weeks. Brief moments in the week where he just had to talk with Bastian for an hour, that was it. No hardcore work until he was more comfortable with this.

He pressed his face into the couch cushion more. As long as he didn’t break down in Bastian’s presence again - or ever, if he could help it - he would jump through whatever hoops it took, his pride and comfort be damned.

He flinched when Papyrus’s hand pressed into his lower back. “Sans. Grillby’s back.”

Sans pulled his head from the cushion and turned it to look awkwardly at his brother. Sure enough, Grillby was standing near the alcove watching the two of them. He offered the fire elemental a smile. “Welcome back. How was the shift?”

“Standard, which in and of itself is a good thing,” Grillby informed him. He wondered if the relief he heard was his imagination. “Did you have any preference or desires for dinner?”

The thought of food had a wave of nausea roll through him but he ignored it. The stress of the day was simply getting to him. “Nope. You two are welcome to pick something. I’ll eat just about anything.”

He heard the soft chuckle from Papyrus as he caught the signs of Grillby’s gentle smile. “Are you alright with me monopolizing Papyrus’s attention for some assistance in the kitchen?”

He laughed. “Please do. I’m just going to go back to napping.”

Papyrus looked at him but the motion had been out of the corner of his eye and the awkward angle made it impossible to make out anything significant.

He listened to Papyrus strike up a conversation with Grillby as the lanky skeleton left his side. He let his gaze fall onto the entertainment center as the sound of their voices rolled over him. Despite his words, he had no intentions of napping. After the day he'd had, dealing with a nightmare was at the bottom of his list. Hopefully the meds Dr. Hendrix had given him worked. At the rate he was going, he needed to actually sleep through the night for once.

He shot upright, soul racing. It had been faint, almost imperceptible, but he knew he had heard his name being shouted. He tumbled off his mattress in his attempt to get up and landed on the clothing strewn floor with a resounding thud. Searing pain laced across his ribs pulling a pained cry from his chest. Rolling over as best he could tangled in the sheets, he moved the hand he had instinctively pressed to his sternum.

The shirt he was wearing was ripped, outlining the long gash across his ribs from shoulder to opposite hip. Red was turning the grey shirt black and his hand was slathered in it.

Another faint call of his name tore his attention to the open bedroom door. Something dark streaked the mess covered floor and open door frame. A sense of urgency filled him.

Fear had driven that shout.

He was up and through the door without knowing how he had gotten free of the sheets. He grabbed at the railing opposite his door long enough to trace the streaks down the stairs, through the living room, and out the front door.

He caught movement through the living room window.

His feet barely touched the stairs as he barreled down them, slamming into the wall at the bottom. It barely fazed him as he promptly leapt the last two steps from the landing. The impact tried to buckle his knees but desperation kept him upright enough to maintain his momentum.

The wind was bitter cold as it slammed into him. Bare feet touching ice and snow sent spikes of agony up his legs that he barely noticed and promptly ignored.

The streaks turned right outside the front door and rounded the house. He chased after the streaks, soul pounding in his chest as if it could shatter his ribs from the inside. He chased them round to the back of the house only to stumble to a stop just around the last corner.

If there had been a door, it no longer existed. Instead, whatever had streaked the ground, his door, the floors, it was all over the door frame and seemed to have splattered outwards from the opening coating the backside of the house and a good stretch of snow in the opposite direction. Dread tore at him at the sight.

A familiar voice screamed his name from the bowels of the dark descent before him.

He dove head first into that darkness driven by a madness he could barely name.

The end of the stairs appeared without warning. With no light to see by, he slammed into the floor with a resounding, metallic thud. The searing pain across his chest returned with a vengeance. He curled around it, trying in vain to quell the hurt.

His name was yelled again.

Pain or not, he was running out of time. The railing of the walkway was cold to the touch as he pulled himself to his frozen feet. The pounding of his bare feet against the metal walkway filled his skull as he chased after the echoes of his name, half aware of the red lit, seemingly endless expanse the suspended walkway cut through.

The walkway became a hallway without his knowing. It looked oddly like the Lab without actually being the Lab, dark and dingy notwithstanding. Panic wrapped itself around his thudding soul as he feared he had lost track of the streaks. It wasn’t until he ran past another hallway that he realized that the hallway wasn’t dark and dingy, it was covered by the streaks.

His shouted name was much louder now.

He rounded the corner as fast as he could manage.

The floor was unrelenting as he fell backwards in an attempt to stop as quickly as possible. The mass now barely feet from him shifted and moved and turned to look at him. Terror filled his soul as a familiar hand closed around his upper arm. His brother tugged at his arm, shouting his name, getting him to his feet. “Come on!”

“We can’t leave him!” he shouted back, fighting his brother’s grip. The regret and acceptance that marred his brother’s face made his soul sink with dread. He yanked harder but his brother had always been the stronger of them, even before this mess. “No! Please!”

His name was screamed from somewhere behind him, in the direction of the mass, but his brother didn’t react to the sound.

“Brother, please! We have to go! If we don’t, Decos will get us and this will all be for nothing!”

“Not without Dings!”

“There you two are!” Someone he didn’t recognize - someone whose features were nothing more than a haze in his eyes - scooped them both up. The stranger was larger than the both of them but seemed unusually thin despite the size. “Time to go,” the stranger spoke, pinning Sans to an unfamiliar body as his brother ran at the stranger’s side.

He was left with a clear view of the undulating mass behind them. It was nothing more than blackness backlit by a raging fire that was quickly consuming the hallway. He yelled in fear and frustration and the magic he was still not used to responded.

He barely got the magic gathered with a formed intent before something shot through his right socket.

What magic he had gathered shattered in his control and turned on him. White hot pain erupted from his socket and the sudden hold around him was excruciating.

He screamed.

“Sans!”

His name - not the name he had been chasing, not the one he knew - cut through his hysteria. He froze, left socket wide as he found his hands closing around warm forearms. He couldn’t see out of his right socket. There was a pressure on it keeping it closed. Pain still curled through him from it but he could make out his brother and Grillby over him, could see Papyrus had his left hand pressed hard against Sans’s right socket. Green healing magic looked like liquid flames as the magic danced around Papyrus’s hand and forearm.

Papyrus’s other hand was on his chest and engulfed in a similar liquid flame of magic, only it was orange magic, not green. Grillby was at Sans’s other side, hands on his upper arms as if to keep him pinned as Papyrus worked. Sans loosened his grip on the elemental’s forearms, his entire body trembling.

Both monsters spoke words he couldn’t retain, relief easing both of their tense forms.

Papyrus’s magic never wavered.

Everything hurt. It wasn’t just a simple ache in the bone, it was full on pain. It was like his very essence was attempting to shatter and Papyrus’s magic was forcing him to stay whole. If Papyrus stopped, Sans wasn’t sure he wouldn’t shatter into a million little pieces and become Dust, no matter how much magic the other had given him.

A rapid succession of thoughts sent a wave of panic through him and he grabbed at Papyrus’ forearm over his chest. “Pap. The soul.”

“Not until you are stable,” Papyrus bit back, the words quaking with things Sans couldn’t decipher.

Tears unbidden filled his sockets and he blinked back what he could. The tears in his right socket escaped from under Papyrus's hand as if to spite his desires. “Please, Papyrus. I can’t-I’ll be fine. It'll be fine. But I need you to check.”

Papyrus’s face twisted as if he was in pain but Papyrus was already moving. Sans felt the magic at his chest stop. The healing magic continued strong and controlled. Sans shuddered when Papyrus’s magic wrapped around his soul. The tug didn’t hurt but his soul leaving his chest left him feeling overexposed. The urge to safeguard it and the new soul was hard to fight.

Papyrus didn’t respond to his hands clamping down harder on his forearm.

For a breath, all Sans saw was the manifestation of his Integrity blue soul hovering over his chest. His breath caught but before his thoughts could spiral out of control and throw him into the despair that awaited him, something drew his attention.

At first it looked like some abnormal magic orbiting his soul, unaffected and untouched by Papyrus’s magic. It wasn’t unusual but definitely enough of an oddity to draw his attention. It wasn’t till it was fully on the side of his soul he was seeing that he realized it was the new soul.

It was pure white unclaimed by any specific trait. Unless the little soul gained access to magic, it would always be white till the being it would create Dusted.

That little soul, less than a tenth of the size of Sans’s, was Alex’s last mark on the world, on him. 

That little soul was their kid.

“It’s alright,” Papyrus offered softly, drawing Sans’s gaze. An odd strain edged the closed off expression. “But I need to put your soul back. Any longer and we risk you Falling.”

Sans dropped his hands from Papyrus’s arm. Papyrus’s magic vanished and he felt the weight of his soul return to the center of his chest. Papyrus’s hand followed it, pressing heavily into Sans’s chest and resuming the magic transfer.

Relief for the agony he had woken to washed through him and he sagged into the floor. Had he fallen off the couch or had Papyrus dragged him to the floor for better access?

“You are carrying.”

He opened his left socket, coaxing his magic into an eyelight at Grillby’s careful words. The fire elemental's expression was curious but it could have been crafted for all he knew. “Yeah,” he confirmed, not that the evidence hadn’t made that obvious. “Have been for four months now without knowing it. Found out yesterday after I collapsed at work. The doc that looked me over threatened severe consequences because of it until it was made clear I had no idea.”

Papyrus shifted above him, drawing both his and Grillby's attention. What he saw made his soul ache. He quickly covered the hand on his chest, uttering a soft, "Papyrus."

Papyrus met his gaze and the tears that had been pooling in Papyrus's sockets finally spilled over. "What did you dream about, Sans?" Papyrus all but demanded. "The last time you expended that much magic had been when you attacked Alex."

He squeezed Papyrus's hand. "I’m not sure, Pap.” He hesitated, suddenly unsure if he even wanted to share it. Something about it had been far too real - Papyrus’s hand had yet to leave his socket, let alone the healing magic to stop - yet he knew it had only been a dream. Papyrus’s fingers curled around his. “It’s not pretty,” he warned.

Papyrus let out a bitter laugh. “I gathered that when your magic started churning the air as you slept.” What humor had appeared vanished immediately. “What did you see?”

What little resistance had formed against telling his brother fell away. “I don’t really remember the beginning of the dream, just the ending, but that’s probably where my magic reacted anyways.” He rubbed his thumb against Papyrus’s hand, drawing on the only part of the dream that had seared itself into his brain. “What I do remember starts with you yanking on my arm trying to get me away from some thing, some mass that was a very real threat for some unknown reason.” A frown pulled at his expression as he found he couldn’t remember something that had been so odd. “You were trying to get me to safety but I wanted to save whoever had been shouting my name. Weird thing, though, was that whatever was being shouted hadn’t been Sans. I don’t even know who it had been shouting but I had been desperate to save them.” He made a face. “Not sure if I’m missing anything but the next thing I know I’m looking at the mass as an inferno’s coming up behind it and before I can even do anything with the magic I had gathered to do something with, something hit me in the right socket and I was in pain I’d never felt before.”

He rubbed at his left socket as if it would help get rid of the itch that had formed in the right one. Papyrus dismissed the healing magic as he pulled the hand from Sans’s socket. He opened both sockets and tried focusing on Papyrus only to find that the sight in his right socket was blurry where his left was sharp. It left Papyrus oddly haloed. He blinked a few times but it didn’t help.

Papyrus rubbed at the remains of the tears on Sans’s right cheek. “Could it have been a memory?”

Sans shrugged. “Of when? I’m fairly certain neither of us have gone up against some blob in what had to have been our younger years.” When the concern didn’t immediately leave Papyrus’s face, he added uneasily, “Have we?”

Papyrus let out a sharp sigh, withdrawing completely. Sans let the other’s hand slip from his. “I wish I knew. Our history has been the latest topic of discussion with Bash and it has left an unease that is refusing to go away. Even before those conversations, there was your coma and our connection with that Dr. Gaster you discovered. Both of us lacking the memories of our younger years wouldn’t be surprising after everything.”

Sans sat up.

Well, he tried to.

Agony flared across his ribs. His body spasmed from it which only made it worse. If he had cried out in pain, he hadn’t heard it, but he did feel the others’ hands on him.

For one disorientating moment, he wasn’t sure what they were doing. It wasn’t till he managed to crack open a socket that he even realized the pair were speaking. Thankfully it seemed like they were speaking to each other rather than him because he wasn’t hearing a word of it.

It took much longer before he realized that both of them were brightly illuminated by healing magic.

“Sans, hey, look at me,” Papyrus urged. Sans jumped at the sudden sound, a hiss escaping when it sent a spike of pain across his body. He managed to crack a socket back open. “I need you to uncurl for me. Grillby and I need to see what damage we are trying to heal.”

He didn’t like how that had been worded. Slowly, carefully, he worked on straightening back out. It seemed to work because, outside of a number of spikes, the pain had been at a dull roar the entire time. As soon as he was on his back, though, both bodies above him were moving. Sans couldn’t remember what shirt he had been wearing and was startled when he caught sight of the gray fabric of a t-shirt as Grillby bunched the fabric under his chin.

“Highest,” Grillby muttered, jerking back. The green healing magic flickered and blinked out around his hands, one of which curled towards the elemental’s own chest.

“Shit,” Papyrus hissed, scaring Sans more than Grillby’s reaction. A shudder rolled through his whole body as Papyrus’s healing magic pressed into his ribs. “Grillby, Dr. Hendrix’s number is in the plastic bag on Sans’s bed. I need you to go get it for me.”

“Pap?” His voice quaked but it was all he could do to keep from panicking fully as Grillby ran to the bedroom. “Pap, what’s wrong? Why are you having Grillby get Dr. Hendrix’s number?”

There was a breath before Papyrus met his gaze. He fully expected the next words to be a lie. He was surprised when they weren’t. “The gash across your chest is..." Papyrus shook his head. “I don’t know how to explain it but it isn’t good and I am not skilled enough to even begin to fathom how to repair any of it.”

Hysteria edged the ending of Papyrus’s words and Sans raised his hand dealing with the pain the motion caused. He held onto Papyrus’s forearm, the farthest he could manage before the pain got too much. “Hey,” he urged softly, hearing Grillby return. “I’m going to be ok. Grillby’s back with Dr. Hendrix’s number, I’ve got more magic in me than I’ve probably had in months thanks to you, and what healing magic you are using is probably keeping whatever is wrong from getting worse.” He gave Papyrus’s arm a squeeze. “It’ll be ok.”

Papyrus gave a weak laugh at that, reaching up with the hand Sans was keeping pinned and taking his phone from Grillby; the fire elemental had tapped in the phone number on Papyrus’s phone. “I thought I was supposed to be the one reassuring you,” Papyrus countered, tucking the phone between shoulder and skull in order to return his hand back to Sans’s chest.

Sans grinned at him. “You can later when I finally see what’s got you so panicked.”

**Author's Note:**

> Tumblr: undertaleau-othertale.tumblr.com


End file.
